


Reboot

by P_I_X_E_L



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alaska, Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Possessive!Soundwave, F/M, Family Fluff, Government Experimentation, Gradual Relationship, Light-Hearted, Platonic Love, Plot Twists, Post-War Earth, Realistic, Robot/Human Relationships, Slight Robosexuality, Slow Burn, Some angst, fem!reader - Freeform, go away jared
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/P_I_X_E_L/pseuds/P_I_X_E_L
Summary: The alien invasion has long since passed, but not without leaving it's mark. Earth has been thrown back into the dark ages. The alien remains purged. So what happens when one wakes up?(reposted from Quotev)





	1. Mountain Trolls

It was hard for anyone to believe the end of the world was a very real and present thing, once upon a time. At least it was when you took a look at the view. Endless swaths of evergreen, pine. Immense mountains pierced the sky and cut into the valley. Far below you, a river splitting the heavens and earth in two. All of it seemingly untouched by the scourge of war.

You contemplated these things a lot. And you came here to do it; an outcropping of rock that jutted out every which way, only twenty minutes from home. It was your favourite place to rest and watch the view.

The more you thought about it, the more you reasoned it may only be you who had a hard time believing the end of the world was once very real and present. People before you had lived it. And even more had died in it. But for you, the biting winds of Alaska were all you knew. You sometimes privately doubted the stories your grandfather would tell of earths liberation in his boyhood. 

You weren't born in Alaska, but you might as well have been. Your own life was a mystery to you prior to the age of six when your grandfather took on the responsibility of caring for you. You'd pry about things, about the parents you'd never met, about the war, but your questions were almost always met with dismissal. He would not offer you what you wanted, specifically for the very reason he took you under his wing; to protect you from it. To protect you from the ugly scars that the aliens had left behind on the earth, to the violence and hardship that overcame humanity in wake of them. It was a dark world now- figuratively and literally.

You smiled shallowly at the inky black horizon and turned your gaze upwards to the stars. With no more light pollution they were brighter than ever. The moon was stunning and full tonight. It's light bounced off the snow and illuminated your safe haven. The snow, like your life, untouched by anything. To say it was a good life was true, if only a little lonely.

You stood and distracted yourself from the self pity with the lecture you were sure to receive should you stay any longer. So you dusted yourself off, climbed down the rocks, and went on your way.

The walk home was second nature to you. It was silent save for the bitter wind in your ears and the crunching under your feet. Soon the wind started to pick up and you were thankful when familiar auburn lights caught your eye through the trees.

You trudged up to the front door of the weathered a-frame and stepped inside, warmth immediately surrounding you. You sighed gladly and shed your heavy boots, or at least tried to when the voice your grandfather spoke up.

"Enjoy yourself?"

You paused mid kick and stood at the door with one boot hanging limply from your foot. Now you'd scattered snow all over the floor and still no lecture?

He must have noted your surprise because he turned to smile at you from the spot at his desk.

"Full moon tonight. Did it look nice?" He continued.

"Yeah, papa," You smiled back at the tired looking man, equally weathered as his cabin from years worth of manual labor. But his eyes always held kindness.

"It was really beautiful," You added after arranging your boots neatly by the door. Your scarf, hat and jacket soon following.

He hummed and the lantern at the corner of his desk flickered. Finally you were free of your woollen confines and shuffled towards the fire, but a fluffy grey lump was already laying there.

"Hey Mute, hey buddy," you crouched by the fluff ball and it opened it's eyes. You placed a hand on his muzzle in greeting and the malamute yawned in return, falling back asleep. "Good boy." You whispered.

It was some time that you simply sat there, warming your frozen core, until you turned to your grandpa. 

"What are you doing?" You inquired.

You spotted an ink feather in his hand, and he did not look up from his desk when he answered you.

"I am," he paused in concentration. "tracking the position of Ursa Minor."

Your grandfather loved the stars, so this came as no surprise. But you pushed anyways.

"How come?"

Finally he looked up over the rim of his spectacles, setting the feather back in it's place. He smiled again although this time it was strained.

"To make sure it's where it should be."

You furrowed your brows at the offhand comment. With a sigh he stood from his stool as you watched him, fighting internally with your ever more apparent curiosity. He walked a few feet to the wood stove and poured two mugs from the kettle before approaching you.

"I'll tell you. Come over here." He answered your unspoken question, setting the mugs down on a rough and hard carved table near the couch. After that he lumbered into his usual spot on the left side, and you soon joined him. With your back against the armrest you snatched the hot mug in both hands waiting eagerly to hear what he had to say. The herbal scent of the tea relaxed you, even still he could sense your unbridled intrigue. 

He kept you waiting, taking a long swig of tea, (it always amazed you how he could down near boiling water so quickly), and readjusting his glasses before speaking.

"Once upon a time, th-"

"Papa," You interrupted. "That's corny. This is a real thing right?"

"Absolutely real, sweetheart," He said with mirth. You had your doubts but kept quiet nonetheless.

"This was told to me by my grandfather. Before the Great War, far from before our family name came to be. The north is home to many things, (y/n). Among these lived an exotic race of beings who held power over the celestial bodies."

You watched him intently as he smiled to himself, wrinkles deepening under his eyes, as if recounting a fond memory.

"The mountain trolls. These beings were large and immense. Taller than any one tree. When one died, the others would take his eyes and lift them into the heavens. Families were placed beside families, and they formed patterns. These later became humankind's constellations."

But his smile withered despite himself. You readjusted your hands over the mug quietly and waited.

"There came a time when a son of the mountain trolls fell in love with Gaia. He fell deeply in love with her and her many children. His name was Polaris. And when he passed he joined his family, but his affection for Gaia was so great that his eyes never left her. It is said, when his beloved comes to her end, his eyes will leave her, for fear he should see her in her death throes."

When the silence returned, you felt gravity just a little bit stronger. Usually your grandpa's fables put you at ease. Where was the happy ending?

When your eyes met your grandpa noticed your expression laughed jovially, catching you off guard. 

"My grandfather did have dementia, you know."

His laugh was contagious, and you snorted into your next sip of tea. This woke Mute up, and you laughed even harder. With the dense atmosphere now abandoned you gently kicked him in the thigh with your foot.

"That's mean!"

"And hereditary. Start taking notes for your old man, (y/n)."

Your grandpa was not usually a joker, so you cherished these times. You were grateful for whatever put him in such a good mood tonight. 

You smiled out the frost encased window as he restocked the fire, exchanging banter for the better part of the night.


	2. A Bump in the Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick note first to apologize for the unintentional spam, Ao3 was giving me a 404 at the time I posted this story and I'm not sure how or why it made so many copies. it's also giving me a 404 when I try to delete them. oops. I'm new here be gentle.

You woke to an empty house and a stiff neck. Groggily you sat yourself up and squinted irritably against the morning sun. As you did so a blanket fell off your shoulders and only then did you realize you must have fallen asleep on the couch. When you were smaller, you recalled feigning sleep just so your grandpa would carry you up to bed. Time moved so fast, and now you were the one helping him up the stairs.

The wind from last night had subsided, it seemed. In fact it was quiet enough that you could distantly hear the chickens out in their coop. A quick glance out the window and at the thermometer told you it was a clear and sunny day. You smiled in delight, almost instantly awake now. Good weather was getting harder and harder to come by, and you wanted nothing more than to be outside. 

Your mouth felt gross, so you jumped from the couch and into the kitchen to grab a swig of water from your canteen. After freshening up, double-checking the fireplace and dawning your winter gear, you stepped out the front door and into the crisp morning air. You inhaled and exhaled slowly, breath making little white clouds in the air. The sun felt amazing, and you quickly got to work on your chores so you'd have more time to enjoy it later.

You filled the chicken feed, gathered the eggs, checked the locks on the sheds, sharpened the woodcutting tools and as you were shovelling a pathway to the cabin, footsteps caught your attention. You turned to look. Your grandfather was coming down the path, hauling a large sled of firewood behind him with Mute trotting at his side. His face was red, and you noticed he was struggling a little, so you abandoned your shovel and ran to him.

"Morning!" You grinned, jogging up behind the sled to help push. 

"Morning," He replied with a little huff when the weight was eased off his shoulders.

A piece of wood toppled off the pile and you snatched it back up without missing a beat. "You should have woke me, I would've helped with this," You scolded.

"I'm not obsolete yet, (y/n)."

The two of you steered the sled towards the existing woodpile. Mute barked silently in moral support, his cute little vest also serving as a first aid kit. 

"Besides that," He continued. "I want eyes on the house in good weather."

"Because... of trespassers?" You supplied. Without answering directly, he nodded. Thankfully you'd never been victim to a break in. Really, it was unlikely given the nearest place to call 'civilization' was over an hour away. But your grandfather was ever vigilant. 

The sled was positioned against the side of the cabin, and you helped unload the pile. As soon as the last piece was placed your grandfather removed his gloves and swatted them against his pant legs. You unconsciously mimicked him as you stared at the pile, satisfied with its perfect pyramid shape.

"You alright here by yourself?"

You looked at him in surprise. "Huh?"

He tucked the gloves into his pockets and trudged around the corner of the cabin. You followed, watching him snatch something from the ledge just inside the front door. Then you heard a familiar jingle.

"We're running low on a few things. Gotta head into camp." He trudged back past you now with keys in his hand. Your mouth made a small 'o'. 

"Oh uh, yeah, no problem."

Camp was what the few people around the area called 'civilization.' Your grandfather told you it was originally something called a gas station, reformed into a trading post over the years. Money was something unheard of now, so people bargained with the fruits of their labor. 

You remembered being there a few times in years past, but the opportunities were rare. He only made the journey once or twice a year. Honestly, you wanted to go again, but you held off knowing he expected you to stay and keep watch.

"Keep Mute with you, and- oh," He turned around and tossed you something shiny. You wavered but caught it before opening your palms, revealing a smaller set of keys. 

"For the cabinet," He added. He didn't say it, but you both knew, it was for the gun cabinet.

Your grandfather trudged over a shallow incline and towards a lumpy tarp further ahead. You watched as he yanked it away, revealing a rusty and decrepit hunk of metal. It was something akin to the Frankenstein of trucks- being welded and jimmy rigged into a state of incomprehensibility, mostly to adapt to the ever changing needs of fuel over the generations. It was a pain to maintain, which was another reason why voyages into camp were so few and far between. 

He unplugged the thick cord that attached the monstrosity to some smaller solar panels nearby, and after tossing some bags in the back, he started it up. It roared, or more so squeaked to life, it's weathered frame jostling the equally weathered frame of your grandfather as he drove it forward. The two were a perfect match, you mused. 

"Want anything?" With screechy brakes he stopped and called back to you. A smile lit up your face at the sudden offer, and you immediately replied,

"Some honey, please! If you can!"

You heard him laugh, "Okay." And with that, he was off.

"Be safe! Love you!" You called though didn't expect him to hear you. You watched until the truck disappeared into the endless horizon of white, before licking your lips, the sudden prospect of honey lifting your mood even more. It was a treat you seldom got to enjoy these days.

There was a nudge against your leg. You looked down to see Mute wagging his tail, glancing from the distance and back up to you.

"Who's a good boy?" You said playfully, before darting away.

"You can't get me!" But Mute pursued you quicker than you expected, and you squealed.

___________

The day passed by for you without much care. Your chores were done, so you took to lounging in the snow for awhile, watching the snow melt off the tall evergreens. You peered at the sky, wanting desperately to go visit your rock perch. And you nearly did until you remembered why you were there to begin with.

Papa should be home soon, you realized, noticing the sun was already low in the sky. But in Alaska, a few hours of daylight were all you could ask for to begin with.

You sighed and nearly got to close your eyes again, until you heard a strangled noise. You knew instantly it was Mute. Lazily you turned your head to look. He was alerted to something, it seemed, but when you peered in the direction he was looking, all you saw were empty tire tracks in the snow.

"Mute, come here buddy," you called, figuring it was just another bird. But he wouldn't listen. He continued silently barking, his movements getting more vigorous. Furrowing your brows you stood and dusted off the snow. And that's when you heard it- only faintly past Mute's gurgling- footsteps.

The familiar crunch of footfalls brought a smile to your face. Papa's home.

You took the neatly shovelled pathway down to where Mute was standing, ready to greet your grandfather. But in the second it took you to open your mouth, so too did your smile vanish.

It wasn't your grandfather. And it wasn't a stranger. In fact you would've welcomed a stranger more than you would've welcome the man you saw before you. 

It was your neighbour. Jared.

Your lips tightened into a thin line as you reached down to your side and grabbed Mute's collar, holding him back from running at the man.

"Heel," you said quietly, and waited for Jared to notice you.

When he did, he pulled back his hood, an odd smile crossing his face. He didn't bother stopping and continued forward into your land as if it were his own.

"Hey kiddo. Where's Pete?"

"Papa is-" Something in your gut told you it would be a bad idea to tell him you were home alone, so you lied.

"He's inside."

Jared walked closer until he was only a few feet away, and then he stopped. He peered disdainfully down at Mute, and then at you. You resisted the urge to step backwards as his eyes then scoured the tire tracks in the snow.

"Where's the truck?" He asked in an amused lilt, as if catching your lie easily. You didn't respond, so he continued.

"Anyways, I gotta talk to your papa. Mind if I come in?"

"I'll get him," you responded quickly, your tone of voice effectively stopping him from taking another step closer.

Rigidly, you turned and walked to the a-frame with Mute in tow. Truthfully, if someone were to ask you what felt so wrong about this man, you couldn't answer. He was a long time friend of your grandfather, middle aged now, with a beard that was just starting to grey. Sometimes the two would drink or go hunting together, so you saw him occasionally.

You remembered him as a little girl, which was particularly when your apprehension was garnered. You tried your best to see him as the 'fun uncle' figure in your life, and you felt bad when you couldn't. His stares always felt too prying, his hugs too confining. Now you were well past those years, and the feeling never changed.

"Sit," you told Mute sternly at the entrance, and he listened this time. Then you slipped inside and shut the wooden door behind you. For some reason, you felt panic rising in your chest. The feeling was uncomfortable most times, yes, but you were still with your grandfather. You'd never been forced to interact with the man alone before.

Not bothering to remove your boots or jacket, you strode straight inside the house towards the only thing you could think of; the gun cabinet. You messily shed your gloves and shuffled around in your pocket to grab the keys, and you were swift to undue the lock. With wobbly hands you grabbed the nearest gun- a shotgun- before a bang made you jump out of your skin.

You thought you'd fired it, but it was then you realized the gun had no ammunition. You whipped around only to be met with the door now wide open as if it had been slammed. 

Your panic seemed well warranted, and you raised the gun to Jared in your fright. He stopped short when he saw a barrel pointed at his face, but made no move to reverse. You could see Mute standing just outside the open doorway, hackles raised in agitation.

"Hey now- what in the hell, (Y/n), you're gonna get someone hurt out here."

He was not nearly as afraid as you wanted him to be. He reached forward tentatively, and you tightened your grip, jerking the gun towards him.

"Don't," you warned.

He raised his hands half heartedly. "Put the gun down, sweetie," he coaxed.

You couldn't stand his sickening tone, and the fact that he'd come into the house after you was enough to confirm your guts suspicions. Steeling yourself, you clenched the gun until your knuckles turned white. You only hoped and prayed he would't notice the empty barrel.

"Papa's coming home soon, and you better not be here when he does," you said in a voice more dangerous than you even expected. You stared him down, refusing to show any sign of weakness, despite your shaking arms.

Every second like that was torture. Jared's eyes trailed along the gun in your hold and for a second your heart sank into your stomach. 

But then despite your fears, he only sneered, and walked out, kneeing Mute along the way. You swallowed a gasp and followed him, standing protectively in front of your dog, but said nothing for fear of provoking him. Jared walked casually and unhurried back the way he'd came, mumbling some kind of farewell along the way. You kept the gun trained on the back of his head the entire time, until his body disappeared completely into the landscape. 

And then you fell. Knees giving way, you crumbled into the snow and your gun along with you. Mute ran to your side and licked your cold hands, seemingly unfazed. You sat there, motionless for a moment before engulfing the malamute in a hug and weeping into his fur. 

You didn't say a word to your grandfather. And not even the honey he returned with could bring a real smile to your face for the rest of the day.

___________

That night, right after dinner, you left the house. The moon was out now, and you wanted nothing more than return to your safe haven. Except this time you brought a gun with you. A loaded one. You claimed it was because you'd seen a bobcat that morning, and wanted to be safe, which was not so far from the truth considering the predator you'd encountered earlier that day.

You walked slowly, letting your mind wander away. This time you didn't look up at the moon, favouring the shadow it cast of your silhouette against the snow. The only time you raised your head was to peer at your comfortable, rocky outcropping.

Or rather, lack thereof.

Wait, you thought and looked behind you, making sure you'd come the right way. But when you turned back to where your usual spot should have been, you were met with a rather unappealing and empty crevice. 

Absolutely baffled, you walked closer. Maybe, you figured, it could've separated from the mountain and rolled down the hill. But as you approached the edge, you saw the snow beneath completely untouched. You shook your head and looked once more at the gaping hole in the mountains edge. You traced every nook and cranny with your eyes, but it was difficult to see it perfectly in the dark. Off to the side, in the snow, there was another crater you noticed. And another beside it, and then another, and- no. Those weren't craters. They looked oddly like-

"Footprints?" you mumbled, barely above a whisper. Your eyes intently followed the pattern of holes, before you cautiously walked up to one. You looked at it, then looked at your own boots. It was massive. Easily as big- if not bigger- as the Frankentruck. 

It took only one snap of a twig for your brain to overreact, and you whipped towards it, suddenly feeling queasy with nerves. Be reasonable. You thought, frightened. How does an entire pile of rocks just disappear?

Previous worries now abandoned, you gripped the strap of your gun, ready to use it at a moments notice. But you didn't move. You didn't even breath, for a long moment, you just listened. 

Soon, another snap, louder this time. You jumped, peering towards the thicks swaths of pine where the footsteps led.

"Hello?" You called, voice cracking embarrassingly. Suddenly you felt like that might have been a stupid idea, because no sooner did you call, did something else react.

The moment you heard it, you knew you'd never forget it. Growls, gears, metallic shrieks, all combined to make a horrifying mess of nightmarish sounds. You heard a hiss, like steam, and then the ground vibrated in the rhythm of a bass drum. Footsteps. Right in front of you. You heard the 'thunk' of a tree, and the cracks as it fell to the ground. It whipped up a mess of snow as it did, and in it's absence, stood something else. 

Now you not only heard, but saw. What you saw, you did not know, but it's top easily reached above the tree line. It was dark, like a shadow. But as it turned you saw one single point of red light, and it was directed at you.

You stared, and it stared.

"Mountain troll," you mouthed, your countenance that of disbelief in it's purest form. That was all it took before your shellshock snapped, and you ran.


End file.
